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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719715">there was a fucking candle okay misunderstandings are bound to occur</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred'>notmadderred</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red vs. Blue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Humor, M/M, Valentine's Day Exchange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:42:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmadderred/pseuds/notmadderred</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons dropped his head into his arms and groaned. He could feel Donut staring at him across the table, probably unblinking and mildly sympathetic. </p>
<p>This was impossible. <i>Grif</i> was impossible, and it was infuriating.</p>
<p>And Simmons? Simmons was desperate. Desperate enough to reach out to fucking <i>Donut</i>, of all people.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons, Franklin Delano Donut &amp; Dick Simmons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>there was a fucking candle okay misunderstandings are bound to occur</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For blood-gulch-reds on Tumblr! I hope you enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Simmons dropped his head into his arms and groaned. He could feel Donut staring at him across the table, probably unblinking and mildly sympathetic. </p>
<p>This was impossible. <i>Grif</i> was impossible, and it was infuriating.</p>
<p>And Simmons? Simmons was desperate. Desperate enough to reach out to fucking <i>Donut</i>, of all people.</p>
<p>“Simmons,” Donut said, speaking slowly and intentionally. When Simmons didn't lift his head, Donut reached over and grabbed one of Simmons’ hands between his own. “<i>Simmons</i>,” he repeated with a bit more force.</p>
<p>Simmons moaned but didn't bother pulling his hand away. “This is hopeless.”</p>
<p>Donut clucked his tongue and moved one hand, putting two fingers beneath Simmons’ chin and gently lifting his head upward. “You aren’t hopeless,” said Donut, looking down at him with a level of sincerity that was a little uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Simmons frowned at him. “No offense, Donut, but you’re full of shit.”</p>
<p>Donut laughed, not holding back in the least as he threw back his head. “Maybe!” he chirped, “But I’m definitely full of something else, too!” He finished with a wink.</p>
<p>“... Right. Forget I asked.”</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t worry! I’m already helping you -- you just don’t know it yet!”</p>
<p>Simmons was hopeless, and Donut was useless. “Sure you are,” he drawled. “Just-- don’t tell anyone about anything I just asked?”</p>
<p>Donut mimed zipping his lips shut, only to ruin the effect with, “My lips are tightly sealed!”</p>
<p>He should just accept that he was never going to be able to ask Grif out. Ever. Besides, despite Donut’s claims, Grif probably didn't feel the same way, and Simmons would be left pining for another decade pretending that it was totally normal to feel like <i>that</i> about his best friend.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Grif froze with a Cheeto halfway to his mouth when he stepped in front of the doorway to see Donut and Simmons sitting together.</p>
<p>He’d been looking for Simmons, not that he’d admit it. The other simtrooper had been avoiding him for days now, sneaking off all stealth-like with the methods Grif had taught him. It was totally uncool.</p>
<p>He’d gone so far as to ask Sarge about it.</p>
<p>He couldn’t see the man’s expression beneath the helmet, but he was gonna guess ‘flustered’ with how he’d stammered out a gruff, “Donut,” before taking off with a proclamation about the Blues.</p>
<p>Finding Donut was easier than finding Simmons. Unfortunately, finding Donut also meant finding Simmons. And finding them together, well…</p>
<p>He slid the remaining Cheeto’s silently into his back pocket and examined the two in the shadows. They were sitting together. Alone. There was a single candle on the table, pushed off-center.</p>
<p>Simmons was looking at Donut, his brows furrowed in that anxious way of his, but he was looking up, actually meeting Donut’s gaze head-on.</p>
<p>And Donut was looking back at him, mouth cocked in a half-grin.</p>
<p>The fuck was going on?</p>
<p>Simmons dropped his head suddenly, groaning about something Grif couldn’t make out.</p>
<p>Donut reached over and grabbed Simmons’ hand.</p>
<p>Grif swallowed. Huh.</p>
<p>No, no -- Donut was affectionate. This was totally fine.</p>
<p>Donut smiled, full and handsome and no-Grif-wasn’t-jealous, and leaned over the table, bringing his hand under Simmons’ chin and lifting his head up.</p>
<p>Grif felt his body go cold.</p>
<p>Donut kept the contact, still smiling, speaking softly as he tilted his head flirtatiously. </p>
<p>Simmons didn't pull away. He just kept looking back at Donut, drawling something at him and looking mildly annoyed but only in that I’m-pretending-to-be-annoyed-because-I-have-a-reputation way.</p>
<p>Then Donut laughed.</p>
<p>Simmons watched him laugh, looking mildly amused himself as his eyes flicked over the man sitting across from him and--</p>
<p>Donut dropped his hand from Simmons’ face and rested it back on his hand. Then he winked.</p>
<p>Grif felt a little numb. </p>
<p>He began walking pointedly away.</p>
<p>No way.</p>
<p>There was no fucking way he just witnessed a date between Donut and Simmons. Absolutely not. Everyone liked Donut, sure, but he was-- he was annoying! Even more annoying than Grif was! Right? And Simmons totally didn't like Donut like-- like <i>that</i>. He would’ve told Grif. They shared everything, after all.</p>
<p>Except Simmons had been sneaking around lately, leaving without explanation any time Grif appeared.</p>
<p>He clenched his jaw.</p>
<p>He wasn’t jealous. He was just upset that Simmons felt like he had to hide this from him. They were best friends, even if neither of them actually used the words “best” or “friend” to describe one another to their face.</p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p>He clenched his hand into a fist.</p>
<p>Not. Jealous. He didn't get jealous. In fact, he notoriously didn't give a shit about anything.</p>
<p>He was fine. This was fine. Maybe he kinda missed his best friend, but they always got back together. It was their thing. It wasn’t like Donut was replacing him.</p>
<p>Fuck, Simmons wasn’t replacing him with Donut, was he?</p>
<p>Nope, he wasn’t allowed to spiral about that. And he wasn’t going to stay awake all night thinking about it.</p>
<p>Shit.</p>
<p>
  <i>Shit.</i>
</p>
<p>----</p>
<p>Over the past several days, Grif had been giving Simmons tons of looks that were nearly impossible to interpret. Simmons had stopped avoiding him (Grif never commented on his scarcity by his side, which was a little disappointing, but nevertheless not a surprise), and they’d fallen into a routine that carefully replicated the routine they had before Simmons started avoiding Grif but also had the distinct air of being forced.</p>
<p>It was uncomfortable. Simmons was uncomfortable. Then again, this was often the case.</p>
<p>Maybe he was being paranoid.</p>
<p>Maybe one of his wires was on the fritz.</p>
<p>“What,” he finally snapped, deadpan, when he caught Grif staring at him like <i>that</i> again.</p>
<p>Grif clenched his jaw. Then, with calculated precision, he set down his bag of chips. “You,” he said. He sounded… kind of mad.</p>
<p>“Me?” Simmons retorted with a huff, leaning back into the couch and glaring at the television. The unmistakable seriousness Grif was expressing was definitely a change of pace. Especially for Grif. Especially for <i>them</i>.</p>
<p>Grif took a breath, turned in his seat so he’d be fully facing Simmons, clasped his hands together, and said, “Why the fuck didn't you tell me that you’re dating Donut?”</p>
<p>Simmons choked on his own saliva and proceeded to have a several-seconds-long coughing fit. When that was said and done, he sputtered out a warbled, “What the <i>fuck</i>? I’m not dating Donut!”</p>
<p>“I saw the two of you on that date! There was a candle! You were holding hands! He touched your face! You <i>maintained eye contact!</i> It was a date!”</p>
<p>His whole face flushed, with most of the blood feeling like it went straight to the tips of his ears. “That wasn’t a date!” he defended, shrill. “I was asking him for advice!”</p>
<p>“Why would you ask Donut for advice!”</p>
<p>“Because--!” He clamped his mouth shut, huffed, and looked away. “Fuck off, asshole.”</p>
<p>“So it was a date.”</p>
<p>“It was <i>not</i> a date.”</p>
<p>“Dude, I’m your best friend. You can tell me it was a date.”</p>
<p>His mind reeled only briefly at ‘best friend’ (and, wow, how sad was it that you were pining over someone who only just now told you that you’re best friends?) before he continued on his defense, now glaring at the floor, “Not. A. Date.”</p>
<p>“Look, I don’t care if you’re gay.”</p>
<p>His heart did a flip in his chest. “I’m-- it’s not-- I <i>never</i> said--”</p>
<p>“I mean, I’m bi. So that would be, like… self-phobic. And I’m pretty sure that’s your thing.”</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Simmons muttered. Was he having an out of body experience? What the fuck just happened to this conversation?</p>
<p>“But I really wouldn’t have thought Donut was your type. Just saying. Not that I’ve thought about your type. And, uh, nothing against you two dating, ‘cause whatever. I don’t care.”</p>
<p>“We aren’t dating!” He finally interrupted, turning back to Grif with what were probably wide, wild eyes. “I was asking him to help me ask <i>you</i> out! You fucking dumbass!”</p>
<p>Grif blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh,” he said.</p>
<p>Simmons’ eye twitched. Then he re-ran the words he’d just spoken aloud through his head.</p>
<p>Oh. Fuck.</p>
<p>Oh fuck.</p>
<p>
  <i>Ohfuckhedidnotjustsaythat.</i>
</p>
<p>Simmons scrambled from his seat. “SorryaboutthatI’vegottago--”</p>
<p>“Wait! Shit, uh -- yeah, wait. Um. Just a second. Simmons. <i>Simmons</i>.”</p>
<p>Simmons’ face was stuck in a wince. “I’m. I didn't really mean to say that? Y- you were just starting to piss me off and it kinda just slipped out--”</p>
<p>Grif was standing now. When did he stand up? Fuck, he was getting a bit light-headed maybe he needed to sit down--</p>
<p>Grif grabbed each of his shoulders and looked down at him. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“Yes?” Simmons furrowed his brows. “Yes what?”</p>
<p>“You said you were going to ask me out. So I say yes. Take me out.”</p>
<p>“Um.” His mind tapped out, and he was left with a feeling akin to clouds cushioning up the inside of his skull. “Uhh.”</p>
<p>Grif let go, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning back on his heels. As Simmons wavered before him, he continued on, “I happen to like food, in case you didn't know, so that’s generally pretty reliable. I also like sitting around doing nothing, which you also enjoy doing a lot but are too much of a bitch to <i>admit</i> admit it to yourself and only admit to the first degree to others. So we can be lazy. Or--”</p>
<p>“Please shut up,” said Simmons.</p>
<p>Grif lifted a brow.</p>
<p>“I’m reeling,” Simmons explained.</p>
<p>“I would think your part-cyborg brain would help you keep up.”</p>
<p>“I’m <i>feeling</i> things,” Simmons elaborated waspishly, “and nothing about being a cyborg helps that.”</p>
<p>“So you’re feeling things,” Grif drawled, nodding slowly. “How interesting and surprising.”</p>
<p>“You fucking-- you <i>know</i> what you’re doing, and you’re an asshole for doing it!” He pushed his organic fist against Grif’s chest in some kind of mock punch.</p>
<p>Grif smirked at him, and his heart leaped. “Uh, yeah. No shit, nerd.”</p>
<p>Simmons pursed his lips.</p>
<p>But, well, Grif was trying to actually make this easy for him. Grif was being nice and keeping to familiar routines so Simmons didn't immediately freak the fuck out and run away.</p>
<p>And Grif was also basically saying that he liked Simmons, too.</p>
<p>And that he wanted to go on a date with him.</p>
<p>Holy shit.</p>
<p>Grif wanted to go out with him.</p>
<p>“Fine,” he said. “We’ll watch a movie together.”</p>
<p>“On the couch?”</p>
<p>“On the couch.”</p>
<p>“How is that any different from what we were doing earlier?”</p>
<p>Simmons thought about this. “Um. I… I’m not sure it is?”</p>
<p>He knew objectively that his heart would not explode. Even still, he was a little worried that his heart would explode, particularly when Grif shrugged, hauled an arm around Simmons’ midsection, and pulled him with him as he slumped onto the couch. He landed firmly against Grif’s chest, not that the larger man seemed to mind, seeing as he just kept his arm wrapped around Simmons as he grasped for the remote.</p>
<p>Simmons squawked in mock protest, immediately cutting himself off to squirm into a more comfortable position against him.</p>
<p>So they were cuddling.</p>
<p>It was nice. Very nice, actually, seeing as he fit perfectly in Grif’s hold. Imagining it was one thing -- experiencing it was another matter entirely.</p>
<p>His muscles relaxed entirely with his next exhale.</p>
<p>He could thank Donut later, whatever it was that the man had managed to do.</p>
<p>“How about <i>The Matrix</i>?” asked Grif.</p>
<p>“This would be the sixty-ninth time we’ve watched it together,” he said, his voice partially muffled. If he listened close enough, he could hear Grif’s heartbeat. “So definitely.”</p>
<p>Grif pressed play.</p>
<p>Simmons hooked his arms around one of Grif’s and nestled closer.</p>
<p>He couldn’t help the smile that played across his lips.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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